


Parasite

by Ecanus



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Body Horror, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-19
Updated: 2012-09-19
Packaged: 2017-11-14 15:07:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/516659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ecanus/pseuds/Ecanus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The cloning process is much faster than regular breeding. More efficient. But that’s not to say it doesn’t have its flaws. (Origin story for HB and CD).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Parasite

The cloning process is much faster than regular breeding. More efficient. But that’s not to say it doesn’t have its flaws.

Occasionally, data is processed incorrectly. DNA strands don’t quite agree with each other. A mutation of some sort takes form and seizes the clone. Luckily, the scientists and engineers are trained well enough to spot a disturbance before it causes harm to the surrounding growing husks.

But there’s always one mutation that seems to slip by them unnoticed in every session.

A hungry virus.

A parasite.

—————

A stalky Dersite stands before a pair of clone cylinders, hands held behind his back as the glowing green bubbles within the tubes cast shadows upon his narrowed eyes. Two unfinished clones float in their respective tubes.

The man grimaces. He hates this place. It reminds him that he was once this way—malformed and naked twofold. The imprint on his wrist throbs as he wonders if it’s possible for these premature creatures to feel embarassment.

He’d rather not be here—the facilities in The Veil are none of his concern—but the archagent was ‘too busy’ and their top scientists were panicking in their silent, academic, scientist sort of way. Someone had to keep the order around here, and while he’d rather be sitting at his desk back on Derse, it didn’t seem like anyone else was up to the job.

So now he’s here, staring into the mesmerizing green, surrounded by a cacophony of contemplative whispering, whirring machines and snaps of useless clipboards. And he’s beginning to think this trip might actually be worth his time.

The pair of clones he has been asked to examine are vastly different. One is small, much like the few remaining children on Derse, but its limbs are not so much youthful and innocent as they are thin and frail. There is enough life support attached to the specimen to sustain the growth of ten other clones.

The other is enormous. Its mass nearly takes up the entire cylinder, and it is still growing. A giant. If there is any life support attached to this beast of a man, he can’t see it amongst its girth.

The parasite, they call it.

Some sort of mutation in its DNA caused it to attach to the nearest clone and feed off of it unnecessarily. Said clone is the frail one.

The scientists had since separated the two from one of the larger tanks and placed them here. They were baffled as to what to do with them. In his opinion, they should get rid of the smaller one and save the parasite, since he could come in handy during combat. That seemed to be the consensus. They just wanted someone higher up to confirm that that’s the right thing to do and that they wouldn’t get scolded later for it. Scolded, for reference, is often synonymous on Derse with killed.

He was going to give them the go-ahead the moment he saw the small suffering husk, but… something stopped him.

Its left arm seems to reach out to the parasite on the other side of the glass, levitating in the green liquid unnaturally, as if being pulled by a magnet. Its palm nearly rests flat on the surface. A gesture of consolation. Blessing, perhaps. Forgiveness.

The man’s eyes narrow further, but not in impatience. Rather, in curiosity. He unfolds his right hand from behind his back and places it gently against the glass by the small Dersite’s palm. The tips of his shelled fingers clack harshly.

He’s reading too much into it. He’s sure of it. But…

“What do you think of it, sir?” A wide-eyed man approaches from behind him, and when he turns to look, he recognizes him as the head scientist of the facility.

He watches him, tight-lipped, curiosity enveloping his chest despite the logical part of his brain telling him to ignore it.

“Keep them alive. Both of them,” the agent says conclusively before returning his gaze to the tubes. The scientist gives him a bewildered look.

“But, sir, the risks—”

“I _said_ ,” a sharp look at him once more, words clipped, “both of them. Alive.”

The shorter man recognizes that tone and gulps, words of further protest dying on his tongue.

“Yes, Dignitary, sir.”

—————

As soon as the specimens are released for duty, the Draconian Dignitary registers them under his name, so he can keep an eye on them and observe what they do.

The result is what he expected.

The larger man—Hegemonic Brute—is fierce, almost constantly aggravated, a deep scowl creasing his carapace. He is enormous and strong and stubborn; a force to be reckoned with.

The shorter—Courtyard Droll—is quite the opposite. Dull. Absent-minded. Holds little understanding of violence. Easy to manipulate. … A bit too excited about hats for Dignitary’s liking. He is very much like half of a person.

Dignitary did not introduce the two of them.

They found each other.

Even before they grew close, differences in their behaviour were obvious when they were near.

The giant became gentle. Calmer. At ease with whatever jumbled mess of a thought process he had. The dwarfed one became more understanding and coherent, and displayed a more genuine happiness than his usual ignorant mindlessness.

That is the extent of Dignitary’s knowledge of their bond. However, he has never told them about the incident. What spawned their existence. Their connection.

They sleep together sometimes—the large Dersite sprawled out on his back with the smaller one using his belly as a bed. It keeps the nightmares away.

But once in a while, Droll stays up. He lies on Brute’s stomach, elbows resting on his chest with his palms against his own cheeks… and he just gazes at him in the dark, not moving or saying a word. Just watching, face blank, but with a spark of wonder in the backs of his eyes.

Because it’s magical when you manage to find your other half, even when you don’t know it.


End file.
